The Ultimate Technick
by ShadowShock
Summary: After the ceasefire, the leaders of Dalmasca and Archadia have a lot to do. But with Vaan and Penelo around, how can anyone concentrate on their jobs? Poor Larsa is just along for the ride...
1. Chapter 1

**Disclaimer:** This story is not created, acknowledged or endorsed by Square-Enix. Square-Enix owns all characters within this story, not me.**  
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**The Ultimate Technick**

"Larsa!"

The black-haired Archadian turned around at the familiar voice. "Vaan, Penelo!"

"We've been looking all over for you," Penelo told him, half-accusingly, planting her hands on her hips.

"Ah, I take it you haven't thought to search the Consul Chamber?" he questioned, amused.

"No," Vaan frowned slightly. "I thought you'd guys be done with that for a bit."

Larsa shook his head. "No, unfortunately. There is a lot of work to do to make sure this peace between our two empires is secure."

"Yeah, but it's been like, four days," Vaan complained, crossing his arms behind his head. "You'd think Ashe would let you guys take a break."

Larsa smiled apologetically. "I am sorry, but the Queen of Dalmasca wants to get everything done as soon as possible."

"Well, don't let her wear you down," Penelo cautioned. Vaan nodded in agreement.

"Thank you, Penelo." Larsa looked around them at the sound of metal boots on the flooring and spotted Captain Basch approaching, wearing the armor of the Judge Magister. He mentally grimaced, but was careful not to let it show on his face. He was already getting tired off the endless meetings, but it wouldn't do to worry his friends. After all, it was his duty and he would not shrink from it.

Even if it was getting decidedly unpleasant.

"Ah, Captain Basch -- pardon, Gabranth. Is it time already?"

It was going to be a bit difficult to get used to calling the man by that name.

Basch stopped next to Vaan, resting a hand on the orphan's shoulder in silent greeting. "I'm afraid so, Lord Larsa."

"Well then, I shall be on my way. Penelo, Vaan, I will see you later."

He left among a chorus of goodbyes, already mentally preparing himself. If he recalled correctly, this would be the meeting with what was left of Dalmasca's ministers to discuss trade benefits between Dalmasca and Archadia.

Vaan watched the retreating back, allowing his frown to fully show. When the straight and unwavering back had vanished around the corner he turned to Basch.

"Have they given Larsa a break at all?"

Basch shook his head, shifting the helmet to his other side. "No. Lady Ashe and the rest of the senates on both sides have been very demanding of everyone. Including themselves."

"Yeah... but... how is _he_ holding up?" Penelo voiced her concern. "I doubt he and Ashe are even getting enough sleep, everything's been so busy!"

Basch paused for a moment, thinking. "He _has_ been a little on the tired side." His fingers tapped a rhythm on his helmet as he thought for a second before looking at Vaan and Penelo, a gleam in his eyes. "I daresay he could use a little excitement to break up the monotony of rule."

Vaan grinned. Weeks of working with the one he'd once thought traitor allowed him to pick up the unspoken hint. "You got it. C'mon, Penelo!"

He grabbed the girl's wrist and dragged her off amidst her protest and demands to know what was going through his mind _this time._ Basch smiled and shook his head before sliding on his helmet. He had best show up to the meeting as well, just in case he needed to prevent Ashe from killing a certain street urchin.

**xXxXx**

"-and so Western Dalmasca will allow Archadian citizens and airships to pass through its lands, provided that they show no aggression. Should there be any disputes-"

Larsa Solidor started to tune the Senate out, resisting the urge to drum his hands against the table in sheer boredom. To prevent it from happening during a lapse of attention and breaking the image of an attentive Emperor, he clasped his hands together.

It was beyond him why they couldn't just put the proposal down on paper and allow him the freedom of reading it instead of having to listen for what seemed like hours to the two sides argue over what was too lenient and what was too strict. Mostly what he was doing at this point was sitting with Ashe at the head of the table to show his support for the peace between the two empires.

But, oh, did everything have to be so boring?

As if answering an unspoken wish, a loud knock sounded at the oak door. Larsa couldn't help being amused at the sour look that crossed the senator's face, irked at something interrupting his speech. Standing and looking over at Basch who was minding the door, he nodded to the captain.

Inclining his head in acknowledgement, Basch moved to the doors and opened them a crack, leaning out to see who it was. The murmur of voices could be heard, but it was too quiet for Larsa to catch anything.

A moment later, Basch pulled back in and hurried around the table to Larsa's side, ignoring the stares of the twenty-some senators. Leaning down, he whispered into the young Emperor's ear.

"An urgent issue?" Larsa glanced over the table and then at Ashe, sitting patiently beside him. "Are you sure it takes precedence over this meeting?"

Basch nodded. "I can assure you, my lord."

"Very well." Larsa tried to inject some regret in his voice, but truthfully, he wasn't all that disappointed. He would do almost anything to get away from the dullness, even if it was only for a few minutes while he sorted out whatever had come up. Probably another minor clash between his own soldiers and the residing guard. At least it would be more straight forward then this current meeting full of double and quadruple meanings.

Stepping away from his chair, he bowed slightly to Ashe. "My apologies for the interruption, your majesty; senators. Please, continue without me. I will return as soon as possible."

With Basch escorting him, Larsa walked over to the door. The captain opened the door for him and as the young boy slipped through the opening, he leaned down and whispered.

"Take your time, my lord; I can take care of things here. And be yourself, for today."

With that, he closed the door, leaving Larsa staring at the wood, puzzled over the cryptic words. What on earth had his bodyguard meant? No matter, he had other things to attend to. Mentally shaking himself, he turned to face his caller.

Only to step back in surprise.

"Vaan!"

"Took you long enough! I thought Basch wasn't going to get you to come." The pale-haired boy grinned, crossing his arms and looking quiet smug with himself.

"But then," Larsa stumbled, trying to gather his thoughts. "Then there is, ah, no urgent issue demanding my attention?"

"Oh, yes there is!" Vaan quickly countered. "The urgent issue that you need to attend to is the state of your health. I mean, I caught you totally by surprise and you couldn't even come back with a smooth answer."

"Yes, well, that is-"

Vaan waved his hands, cutting off the dark-haired boy's meager protesting. "Never mind all that, alright? You're having the day off, and that's final."

Seeing that Larsa was still hesitant, he sighed and grabbed the other's hand and proceeded to pull him towards the nearby staircase. "Penelo's waiting. And besides," He grinned again, winking at Larsa. "I'm suppose to be a sky pirate remember? Capturing people of high rank is what we do. So, consider yourself kidnapped."

Larsa laughed, finally following the Dalmascan under his own power. He really should be going back to the meeting... But Basch had told him he would take care of things, and besides, a day with Vaan and Penelo was worth a whole year of ruling as Emperor. He didn't have to watch what he said or did.

He could, like Basch told him, be just himself.

"Tell me, sky pirate, where are we going?"

Vaan smirked, waving to Penelo who was waiting at the top of the stairs. "Just wait and see!"

**xXxXx**

Three hours later, Ashe had finally been able to call the meeting to a close with some satisfactory resolution. Only after the last senator had filed out the room did she allow herself to slump in her chair and let out a loud groan, rubbing her eyes.

She looked up as Basch came to stand at her side, pulling his helmet off. She didn't even bother to straighten in her chair, even though it was a very unlady like position for her to be in. At this moment, she couldn't care less. She had done some very unlady-like things in the past two years; one more wouldn't matter.

"How is my lady faring?"

She waved a hand in the air. "Oh, don't ask Basch. The Archadians want free access to the mines, the Dalmascans demand full autonomy, Rozarria declares they will have nothing to do with either side if we so much as place a one percent tariff on their merchants... need I go on?"

Basch smiled. "Please don't, my lady. Having to stand through it all once was enough for me. I'm not too eager for a reenactment."

Ashe had to laugh at that, finally pushing herself straight. She looked over at the empty chair beside her, suddenly remembering.

"Oh, Lord Larsa... he never came back did he?" she looked up at Basch and the captain shook his head. "Where did he have to go?"

Basch twitched, shifting his feet slightly and Ashe narrowed her eyes in suspicion. "Basch..."

Her interrogation was cut off before it had even begun. Shouts and squeals in familiar tones echoed through the hall and the open doorway. A moment later there was a clatter of feet, the excited chatter of speech and then... silence.

Ashe stood up, her eyebrows drawn in puzzlement. "Was that... Vaan and Penelo?" she asked no one in particular, walking towards the open doorway. Basch quickly followed her.

As she neared the door another round of squeals and shouts could be heard. But instead of ending with the clatter of feet like the last time, the chorus was interrupted by a shout.

"Ahh! Watch out!"

There was a loud thump of something hitting the floor, then two more muted thumps afterwards. A clamor of words rose up, each voice speaking and laughing at the same time, the refined Archadian accent intermingling with rough Dalmascan speech.

"-Oww, Penelo--!"

"-I am sorry, I couldn't quiet-"

-ouch, my arm!"

"-get off!"

"-maybe we should of-"

"-you're squishing-"

"-are you saying I'm _fat_, Vaan?!"

"-how rude, Va-"

_**"What in all of Ivalice is going on here?" **_Ashe thundered, not sure what to make of the tangled pile of bodies at the foot of the stairs.

The three teenagers jerked in surprise, not having seen her exit the room. At the sight of Ashe, Larsa's eyes widened and he quickly scrambled to his feet, nearly tripping over Penelo's legs as she tried to do the same thing while Vaan's flailing only made things worse. It took nearly a minute of flurried activity before the three of them were on their feet.

Ashe opened her mouth to repeat her question, but Vaan beat her to it.

"What does it look like? We're sliding down the banisters! Want to join us?"

His grin only served to further Ashe's anger. This was the palace of Dalmasca, her _father's_ palace! Not some playground! "Sliding down the banisters! By Ifrit, Vaan! Have you nothing better to do than to waste Lord Larsa's time with such... such frivolous activities?"

Vaan raised his chin stubbornly, his eyes hardening. "Larsa's younger then any of us," he retorted, and Ashe flinched at the undertone bite that clearly said _back off!_

"Just because you can go four days without any fun, doesn't mean you have to drag Larsa down with you. Come on, guys."

Turning his back on a Ashe, Vaan lead the others down the hallway. Larsa gave her an apologetic look but made no effort to resist as Vaan pulled him along.

"Hey Larsa, did I ever tell you the time I actually snuck into the palace?"

The group had vanished by the time Ashe finally recovered from being talked back to. "That-that Vaan! Who does he think he is, dragging Larsa along as if-" She halted and suddenly whirled around to face the man standing behind her. "Basch! You were involved in this, now I see! How could you? We need Larsa there as Archadia's leader to clear the path to making this peace treaty last!"

Basch shook his head. "That may be, my lady. But nothing came up that truly required Lord Larsa's attention. Please remember, he may be the Emperor of Archadia, but he is also a boy of just thirteen summers."

Ashe halted her next rant, struck by the reminder. "Oh... yes..."

Basch adjusted his helmet more comfortably and offered his arm to her. Lord Larsa wasn't the only one who could use a break.

"In the meantime, I heard that the gardeners have added some new rose designs in the Terrace Room. Would her highness care to join me?"

**The End**

...for now?

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Constructive feedback is welcomed, flames are not. I hope you enjoyed this story, and I would love to hear your reactions to it and what you thought of it. I did my best to portray the characters correctly. At the moment this is a one-shot story, but if any plot bunnies come up I'll be sure to post another part. 


	2. Mixed Results

Well, plot bunnies came. :) Here's another friendship chapter on a favorite trio of mine. Enjoy!

For disclaimer, check the first chapter.**  
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**Ultimate Technick**

Mixed Results

"Really, they were fussing over _such_ a trivial matter," he told the man striding beside him, venting pent-up frustration. "How can the legality of chocobo racing even begin to compare with the importance of enforcing court justice?"

"Perhaps because some stand to profit from the former, while the latter produces no gold," Basch commented.

"I suppose. Small matters for small minds -- oh, hello Vaan." Larsa broke off as Vaan appeared through one of the many doorways in the hall before them.

"Hey, Larsa, Basch!" Vaan shifted his armload of groceries and cookware, careful of the more fragile items. "Finished with today's work?"

"For the time being," Larsa replied, eyeing the mixture of platters and foodstuff in the older boy's arm.

"It's Gabranth," Basch warned, giving Vaan a pointed look. They could never be sure who was wandering the palace halls, and it wouldn't do for someone to find out who Larsa's bodyguard really was.

Vaan winced and looked contrite, then jumped into the gap with hardly a pause. "Yes, yes, I know that's your noble official name and all that, but can't I call you by your given first name?"

"If you must," was Basch's stiff reply.

Larsa sensed a chance to change the subject and satisfy his curiosity at the same time. "By the way, Vaan, what are you doing with all those... items?"

"Oh, these?" Vaan grinned. "Penelo and I decided to commandeer one of the smaller kitchens one level below. We're making cherry tarts."

"Hm, cherry tarts." Basch smacked his lips, then looked at Vaan and raised an eyebrow skeptically. "You can make cherry tarts?"

"Hey, that's not fair," Vaan complained, looking hurt. "Just because I couldn't cook over an open fire _at first_ doesn't mean I don't know how to bake."

Basch just crossed his arms as the other eyebrow joined the first. Vaan sighed in defeat, his shoulders sagging while the stuff in his arms rattled dangerously.

"All right, I give. Penelo's doing the cooking. She learned a bunch of stuff working for Migelo." The Dalmascan turned to Larsa. "Hey, why don't you come with me? It'll be fun -- we could use an extra hand and this way you get them hot out of the oven."

"Well..." Larsa hesitated and glanced up the soldier.

Basch smiled and pushed the boy forward. "Go with him, Lord Larsa. I am sure Penelo will welcome some refined company."

Vaan stuck his tongue out at the knight. Larsa barely managed to swallow his laughter. "Thank you. Please call me if anything comes up. Here, Vaan, let me help you carry some of those things before you drop them."

Vaan gratefully allowed Larsa to take some of the more delicate items while Basch had him explain exactly where the kitchen was. Only once the captain was satisfied that he'd be able to find the young Emperor quickly did he allow the boys to leave.

Vaan bid Basch good day and promised to save him some cherry tarts, then led Larsa down the hall to a small stairway.

"Like I told Basch, the kitchen is just one level down," Vaan explained as they walked rapidly down the steps. "I had to get supplies from this level's main kitchen and storeroom because the little one isn't used often, so they don't keep it stocked. Lucky for us."

"Does Lady Ashe know about it?" Larsa questioned, curious as to her reaction. After last week's banister incident, he wouldn't have been surprised if the soon-to-be-official-queen had refused to let Vaan touch anything in the palace. They reached the landing and Larsa hurried forward to open the door for Vaan.

"Thanks. And no, I don't think she does. She's been kind of busy lately, like you. Penelo and I just talked to the cooks and they said that as long as we didn't bring Ifrit or Shiva along to help, we could use the small kitchen."

"How kind of them." Larsa had to pick up his pace to keep up with the taller boy as Vaan lead him through several doorways without hesitation. Larsa suspected that the street orphan, no longer fearing Imperial pursuit, had spent his first week here prowling the palace hallways from top to bottom.

"And here we are," Vaan announced, leading him through one final doorway tucked at the end of yet another hallway. It opened into a small, homely looking kitchen with enough room to hold ten people comfortably. Penelo stood at one of the counters with her back towards them, absently stirring the contents of a large mixing bowl. Vaan went suddenly light on his feet in a way Larsa had never yet been able to imitate and walked silently up behind Penelo before greeting her loudly.

"We're baaack!"

Penelo shrieked and whipped around, her mixing spoon sweeping up defensively. Dough flew off and splattered across Vaan's face. He sputtered, freezing in his tracks with his eyes closed for protection.

"Penelo!"

"Oh, oh Vaan!" Penelo lifted a hand over her mouth in shock, though Larsa could see her eyes dancing with laughter. "I'm so sorry! You startled me!"

"That's obvious," Vaan agreed calmly.

"That was excellent marksmanship, Lady Penelo," Larsa teased as he set the basket of eggs and other ingredients on the table dominating the middle of the room.

"Whose side are you on, Larsa?" Vaan licked the dough off his lips. "Were you skilled enough to miss my eyes, _Lady_ Penelo?"

Penelo giggled and leaned forward to inspect Vaan's face. "Yup, it looks like I missed them. It's safe to open up."

"Thank you – gah!" Vaan opened his eyes just in time for Penelo to grind more dough into his face. "Penelo!"

"Don't you want to taste it?" she asked innocently as she took the rest of his supplies and set them next to Larsa's pile.

Vaan, distracted, wiped some dough off his cheek and licked the finger clean. "Mmm, this is tasty! Good thing I decided to wash up this morning."

Penelo wrinkled her nose in disgust. "Vaan! That's just... ewww!" She flicked a measuring spoon at his face and went back to stirring. "Are you going to help, or just gross us out?"

Vaan adjusted his sword belt, wiped most of the dough off and stuck it in his mouth. "Help, of course!"

Larsa found a white dishcloth and dipped the corner in a nearby washpan so Vaan could clean his face properly, then turned to Penelo. "Where do you require my assistance?"

With Penelo in charge of the operation, they soon had more batter and filling mixed and laid out in neat trays. Meanwhile, Vaan lit the oven and kept a watchful eye on it, not wanting either of his friends to burn themselves. He even kept a bucket of water nearby for emergencies.

Larsa had never done any baking before and soon found that it was harder than it looked. He made several mistakes. How was he supposed to know that it wasn't a good idea to dump all five cups of flour in at once? And really, it was Vaan's fault that a can of chili pepper got dumped into the first batch of cherry filling. Larsa couldn't help laughing when Penelo recovered enough from her first taste of tart _a la chili_ to chase Vaan around the kitchen. While the two of them were thus occupied, he availed himself of the chance to snitch some dough.

He wouldn't dare say so in front of Penelo, but he agreed with Vaan. Her face _had_ turned the most interesting shade of red.

Twenty minutes later and too many near collisions with someone carrying cherry filling, Larsa decided to take Penelo's advice and pull off his long-sleeved dress shirt. It had already acquired several flour streaks and a charred sleeve end where he had brushed too close to the oven before Vaan chased him away. He slipped into the dining room attached to the kitchen and laid the dress shirt over a chair, then tucked his pendant into his undershirt where it would be out of the way and went back to shaping dough and spooning filling, no longer worried about kneading his trailing sleeve ends into the stuff.

Vaan did a fine job of sliding the metal trays into the oven, seeming unaffected by the heat despite the sweat running down his back. Under Penelo's direction, he pulled the finished trays back out and set them aside to cool before sliding the next batch in. The kitchen filled with the aroma of pastries, and Larsa suddenly wondered how they would manage to save any for Basch. They had already consumed one tray before it even finished cooling.

"Last one," Vaan finally announced, gingerly sliding the hot tray out of the oven. Penelo shoved the rest of her tart into her mouth as she finished stacking the dirty dishes next to the sink. Larsa, with newly acquired deftness, used a spatula to scoop the last of the tarts off the trays and into a woven basket.

"Good." Penelo swallowed and wiped the crumbs off her face. Her cheeks were flushed from the hot kitchen. "The dining room has a balcony; let's go eat out there. Vaan, you got the fire?"

"Yeah, I got it." Vaan closed the oven and opened the chimney so the fire could safely burn itself out. He stepped away and brushed his hair back with a floury hand. "All done. Hey, we got anything to go with the tarts?"

"Yes, we do." Penelo wrung out a wet washcloth and draped across the back of her neck to cool down, then wrung out another and tried to tame the flour and batter mess. "Larsa? The cool box to your left."

"I see it." Larsa put his spatula aside and knelt to pull open the elaborately carved cabinet door. Cool air washed over his face, almost frigid after the warmth of the kitchen. He pulled out two containers and held them up. "These?"

"That's them. All right, let's go out where it's cool!" Penelo grabbed the basket of hot pastries and led the way through the dining room and onto the balcony.

xXxXxXx

Basch stretched and sighed in satisfaction, enjoying the freedom of being out of his Magistrate armor. He understood the necessity of wearing it, and it made dealing with people much easier. But the stuff weighed more than a battleship by the end of the day.

The knight wandered over to the window and spent several minutes just watching the twilight sky. The sun had already set and it was getting too dark to see inside clearly. Oh, but how wonderful it was, to be free again to enjoy the beauty of something as simple as the sky.

Ah, but he should check to see if Lord Larsa was safely back. He hadn't seen the boy since leaving him with Vaan earlier in the afternoon. Basch wasn't sure whether he should be relieved or worried that he had heard nothing from either of them since then.

He lit a lantern from his bedstand and made sure his sword was secure, then headed for the guest room assigned to Lord Larsa during his stay in Rabanastre. The lamps in the hallways had already been set with small light crystals and Basch had no trouble finding the door across the hall from his.

He decided against knocking and quietly pushed the door open instead, shielding the flame from his lamp in case his charge was sleeping. But the room was empty, and the bed was still made.

Basch backed out and closed the door, frowning slightly. He couldn't still be with Vaan and Penelo, could he? Shaking his head and hoping that they hadn't wandered off to the far reaches of Rabanastre on a whim, he set out for the kitchen Vaan had described earlier.

He got lost once or twice on the stairways before finding the kitchen. He knew it was the right one because of the lingering smell of warm cherries. And, he noted with amusement as he held the lantern high, the enormous mess they'd left in their wake. A stack of dirty dishes was piled near the sink while spilled ingredients decorated every counter.

The center table, though, had been cleaned up, and a covered basket sat primly near the edge. A slip of paper on top caught his eye; Basch picked it up, holding it closer to the lamp to read the writing. The curved lines were in Larsa's hand writing.

_**For Basch.  
From Larsa, Vaan and Penelo**_.

He chuckled silently, setting the note down and peeking underneath the cloth. Sure enough, there were about a half a dozen cherry tarts inside.

"They remembered," he whispered to himself, warmed by the gesture. Smiling, he followed the sounds of a lit fireplace to the next room over.

The balcony doors were closed against the chilly desert night, and the fire was burning merrily. A game board and its pieces were scattered across the hearth along with three empty mugs, a book, and an empty basket, all surrounded by a dusting of pastry crumbs. Three of the five couches were occupied by sleeping youngsters, all except Vaan covered by blankets.

Basch set his lamp down on the nearest table. The metal casing thumped softly against the oak wood and Vaan twitched in his sleep, drawing the knight's attention. It was a good thing too, or else Basch would never have noticed the orphan's fingers slowly curling around his sword handle.

"It is I," he whispered, holding still. Vaan might be a social klutz, but his reflexes were nothing to mess with.

Vaan opened his eyes, blinking owlishly in the light. "Basch?"

"Yes." Basch confirmed. Only after Vaan relaxed did Basch move to Larsa's couch and straighten the blanket that was threatening to slide off.

"Oh," Vaan rubbed his eyes, stretching and yawned before turning on his side. As he closed his eyes he sleepily slurred, "…Blankets at fireplace."

"Thank you, Vaan."

Vaan was already asleep. Basch didn't have the heart to wake any of them up again. He maneuvered around Penelo's couch, laid another log in the fire and picked up two blankets from the stack on the hearth. He spread one of the blankets over Vaan, who snuggled under it in his sleep, sighing contently.

Picking the couch closest to the door, he shook the other blanket across it. He would make sure no one else disturbed them for the rest of the night.

But first, there were some cherry tarts with his name on them.


	3. Fallen Stars

...I'm not sure where this chapter came from. It's a bit more serious then the previous two, but I hope you (the reader) still find it as enjoyable. I altered the story summary to hopefully describe the story better. Does it?  
And yes, I do have a camo for Ashe in this one, Riaeth. See, told you I would have her in later chapters. ;) Thanks goes to my sister for beta-ing. Best ever!

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**Ultimate Technick**  
Fallen Stars

_Why?_

The question, so deceptively simple, had been plaguing him. During the day he was able to push it away, distracted by the duties of an Emperor and the work he and Lady Ashe had to perform. And if that wouldn't do, there was always Bashe to talk to. And -- he had to smile briefly -- there was also Vaan and Penelo.

_Why?_

But it always came back, relentless in its search for an answer, haunting in its need for a reason.

_Why?_

_Why had Vayne acted the way he did? Why did I have to pull a sword on my own brother? Why?_

He let out a choked sob as tears escaped his eyes to run down his face. He made no move to wipe them away. He was tired of having to fight them the whole day, tired of having to wrap the mantle of emperor around himself to keep them at bay. Besides, it was the middle of the night; no one was around. Here in his silent room, he was alone.

From now on, he would always be alone.

He buried his head in his arms, letting the tears fall as the truth of the words hit him full on.

_**WHY!**_

He had always felt his brother would do what was right to uphold what was honorable, even if it was just the honor of Archadies. He had trusted Vayne! Despite the rumors of Vayne's involvement with their older brothers' fates, Lasra had trusted in him.

To have that trust shattered had been a devastating blow to Larsa, and he wasn't sure he would ever recover.

Deep in the coils of sorrow, he didn't hear the sound coming from the open balcony at first. Finally he lifted his head, blinking to clear his vision. He twisted in his chair to peer out the open balcony doors. The silk curtains fluttered in the night breeze, and beyond them he could see a figure climbing over the stone railing.

Before he could become alarmed, the figure slipped over the rail and landed in a patch of moonlight with hardly a sound. The ash blonde hair, even paler under the moon, was a dead giveaway. He knew only two people with hair like that, and somehow he doubted that _she_ would be climbing about where she had no business in the middle of the night.

"...blast..." Vaan's quiet voice carried through the cold air, crystal clear. "Wrong balcony. Again."

"Vaan?" Larsa called, his voice cracking with emotion. He cleared his throat and tried again. "What are you doing?"

As far as Larsa could determine, Vaan's erratic activities were driven by motives incomprehensible to just about everyone but the street rat himself. He'd often tried to puzzle out what the older boy was up to only to give up and learn by watching events play out to an often uproarous conclusion. Tonight, he wasn't even up to trying.

"Larsa?" Surprised, Vaan brushed aside one of the curtains. "You're awake?"

"Yes," Larsa answered him, swiping at his cheeks as the Rabanastren let himself in.

"What are you doing still up?" Vaan made himself at home, leaning on one corner of the desk to study his friend.

Larsa raised an eyebrow, though he wasn't sure Vaan would see it in the dark, and forced himself to speak carelessly. "I could ask the same of you."

"Yeah, point." Vaan rubbed the back of his head in a sheepish gesture. "But then, that's me. People aren't too surprised when I do something like this. But what about you, Larsa?" Vaan paused, looking at Larsa with sharp eyes. "Anything bothering you that you want to talk about?"

Larsa flinched. Vaan was smarter than he looked. Sometimes. "Nothing I can't deal with. Really, Vaan, what _are _you doing?"

"Oh... nothing... just, uh, well, Basch confiscated something from me earlier today."

"And you were trying to get it from him?" Larsa was momentarily at a loss for words. "Vaan, the man sleeps with a _battle-axe _beside him."

Vaan shrugged. "And I sleep with my sword on."

"And he can throw the battle-axe too." Larsa pointed out. "I don't think I need to remind you of a that night when a certain monster wandered into camp."

Vaan shifted his feet and muttered under his breath. "All right, all right. Enough about my sand-brained plans. What about you?"

Larsa blinked. "What about me?"

"Come on, I told you my reason, now tell me yours."

"There is nothing to say," Larsa protested, turning away from the older boy in a dismissive gesture. "Thank you for the inquiry."

Vaan sighed. "Larsa, stopped deflecting the question. I know you're good at that, but I'm here if you need to talk. So talk."

Larsa bit his lip and shook his head. "It's nothing."

Vaan was silent for a minute, head cocked as he studied Larsa. The boy's hunched shoulders and nearly hostile aura triggered painful memories.

"Is this about... Gabranth?" Vaan asked.

Larsa drew in a sharp breath and shook his head. He didn't want Vaan to continue his line of questioning, but he didn't trust himself to speak. Gabranth... Of course he missed Gabranth, Basch's twin brother. The Magistrate was one of the few men whose loyalty was unshakable and Larsa missed him sorely. But it wasn't the same. Gabranth had never let him down. Not like--

"It's Vayne, isn't it?"

Larsa pressed his hands against his eyes, willing the images to cease appearing. The ones of his brother, before the whole war. And the ones that scared him most, the ones of him on Bahamut, with something akin to bloodlust in his eyes.

_why?_

He heard Vaan slid off the desk and with a pang thought that Vaan was going to leave. But instead the Dalmascan grabbed his arm and tugged him gently to his feet.

"Come on. This room is too small for your problem. You need to go somewhere bigger."

Larsa allowed himself to be led to one of the balcony's stone benches.

"Sit," Vaan ordered, sitting down on the other end of the bench himself.

Larsa, having nothing better to do, sat. "What does this have to do with Vayne?" he asked miserably.

Vaan tilted his head back and breathed in deeply of the clean night air. "Everything."

Larsa swiped at his cheek, which was wet again. He was surprised to see a faint wet streak on Vaan's face as well. "Vaan?"

"My brother once told me that the sky was the only thing that could bear the weight of our pain without shattering..." Vaan sighed and ran his hands through his hair, paying no attention to his own tears. "I don't know how else to say this, Larsa, but trust me. When the questions start plaguing you, the best way is to just talk them out. I'll listen."

"There's nothing to talk about," Larsa sniffed. "He's gone."

Vaan was silent for a moment, dropping his head and tugging at his hair. "When I lost Reks... my world came crashing down. For weeks I kept seeing him there on the hospital bed... I couldn't get it out of my mind."

Larsa pulled his knees against his chest. "I... I keep seeing Vayne on the Bahamut... when he fought you and Basch and... Gabranth." He took a shuddering breath. The memory still gave him shivers. "I was terrified. In all my life I had never been terrified of my own brother."

"...I hated him."

The quiet admission startled Larsa. "Hated him? Why?"

"After Reks died, I started to hate a lot of things. The army for losing. Basch - or Gabranth, whoever -- for killing my brother. The Imperials... for everything. I couldn't see it, but it was eating me up. And when Vayne got elected as consul for Dalmasca, it just gave me a figure to focus all my hate on."

"Penelo said he frightened her... but how could that be? Like me, Vayne was taught that the duty of House Solidor was to place the need of others before ourselves. He would not go out of his way to harm you."

"As long as you weren't his enemy."

"But even then Vayne was not one to use brute force. I can't recount the number of times he's smoothed the ruffled feathers of one consul or another with his words. It was so unlike him to go after power like he did on the Bahamut."

"It seemed he was content with wanting power," Vaan observed. "Even before Bahamut."

"What would you know?" Larsa snapped, suddenly angry. "You didn't know him. I did."

Vaan counted to ten. Then to twenty. Then to thirty.

Then, very carefully, he spoke. "So... why don't you tell me?"

Larsa, braced for a biting retort, blinked. There was nothing but compassion on Vaan's face.

It was as though a dam broke and the words tumbled out, memories buried so far inside that he hadn't realized how deep the pain went.

Vaan didn't say anything. He just patted his shoulder. And listened.

**xXxXxXx**

She hadn't meant to eavesdrop. But she had been restless tonight, her room bringing back too many memories. Painful memories. She wished they would stop haunting her... but at the same time, she was terrified to let them go for fear of forgetting. She had gone out to the open-air balcony in an attempt to escape them. Her balcony was a good five stories above the one that Larsa and Vaan were on, but the palace walls channeled their voices up to her with crystal clear clarity.

She suspected that they'd been designed that way.

Once she realized what they were talking about, she moved away from the railing edge to a place where she could no longer make out their words, respecting their privacy. But the words she couldn't help remembering struck a chord deep within her.

They were healing.

Maybe... maybe it was high time she did some healing of her own. Wouldn't Lord Rasler want her to do that?

Tears sprang into her eyes and she quickly swiped at them.

"Please, dear Rasler... I too must move on."

Unable to keep the tears back, she let them fall as she looked up at the night sky and its tapestry of stars. Yes, she would start healing. And it would start tomorrow, with the person she owed it to most.

A streak of white flashed across the sky, its vivid trail outshining the stars as it lingered for a moment. Then, as if it had never been, it faded away.


	4. Deadly Fashion

Finally got around to writing this out, thank you for waiting! This has turned out to be a bit more then I ever thought it was, and it has only grown bigger... I've got at least three more short story ideas to add onto this collection! And one of them just might spark a spin-off novel...  
Anyways. Please enjoy, and again I love to hear what you thought of it -- but no pressure. ;)

* * *

**Ultimate Technick**

Chapter 4  
**Deadly Fashion**

"Why don't we use this route?" Larsa Solidor asked, pointing with a finger and tracing a line on the map. "It doesn't look like it should be difficult for the caravans to travel on, and it goes by Nalbina Fortress as well."

Ashelia B'nargin Dalmasca leaned closer to the map, frowning. "Possible, but I'm not sure it actually goes all the way through."

"Do we have a more detailed map of the region than this map?" Larsa inquired, gesturing to the extremely large leather map in front of them. It encompassed the four nations, important trade routes and general terrain, but little else.

Ashe stood up. "I will go check the map cabinet. We should have one."

She took a step away and staggered, prompting Larsa to jump to his feet, hand reaching for her elbow to steady her. But she regained her balance and waved him off, muttering darkly under her breath as she made her way around the table to the cabinets. He didn't catch all her words, but gathered that it had something to do about fashion designers being related to Cockatrices.

Not that he could blame her, he mused. The six-inch high-heel boots that laced up to her knees looked incredibly uncomfortable in and of themselves, not to mention the rest of her outfit -- a long white dress that dragged on the floor. It made Larsa grateful that the top Dalmascan fashions had not made it to the Imperial Courts. Once they did, though… well, he could always claim he preferred to dress retro.

Of course, he had his own complaints about his current outfit. The clothes that he wore traveling were much more comfortable, he remembered, tugging at the restrictive cuffs of his embroidered coat. Or maybe it was that he was hitting a growth spurt… he would have to speak with his tailors back at the Imperial Palace.

"Now I know my father commissioned some mapmakers to update our maps, but that was just four years before the war… and I'm not sure if they were able to get very far."

Lady Ashe's voice drew his attention back to the present and he looked over to see her flipping through the scrolls of rolled-up maps, pausing to glance at the names imprinted on the wide leather strap that tied them up.

"It should at least give us a starting point for possible official routes to use for trading between Dalmasca and Archadia," Larsa commented, shrugging his shoulders in an attempt to make his coat more comfortable. It wasn't much help.

"Yes, and it be wonderful if we could get the joint counsel to agree on it within a day." Ashe made a sound of triumph, picking up a scroll and waving above her head. "Haha! Found it!"

She shoved the door closed with her hip, studying the scroll as she back around the table to her previous seat. "I believe encouraging the trade between our two nations should help spee—eeep!"

With a small yelp, Ashe disappeared behind the table.

"Lady Ashelia!" Larsa exclaimed. Without a second thought, he vaulted onto the meticulously waxed tabletop and sprinted across to the other edge where the young queen had dropped out of view.

He dropped to his knees and slid the last few inches, slapping his palms on the table so as not to fall off the edge. He gazed with concern at the white-clothed figure on the floor. "Lady Ashe?"

"Ifrit's fire!" Ashe spat as she pushed herself up into a sitting position, letting out a string of choice curses that caused Larsa to flinch. They sounded a lot like the ones he heard from the soldiers as he walked past the barracks. Certainly none of them could be learned inside the palace courts.

She had yet to acknowledge Larsa, but he decided that if she had enough breath to cuss like a soldier, she couldn't be hurt too badly. He shifted on the hard table and crossed his legs for a more comfortable sitting position before trying to get through one more time.

"Ashe?"

She pulled at her foot and twisted it around to look at the sole. "Blasted dress! Blasted boots!"

The heel of her right boot had gone right through the dress, tearing off a hand-sized piece that was currently impaled on the heel. A glance at the dress edge showed where it used to belong as well; a rip that nearly went all the way to the waist.

"How did you manage that?" Larsa asked with amusement, then caught his breath as he realized how offensive the words could be.

But Ashe was beyond caring. She yanked the torn piece from the heel and threw it over her shoulder before pulling at the strings that laced up her boot. As she worked at the knots she raved on, while Larsa leaned back on his hands and decided it was best to watch the thunderstorm from a distance.

"Shiva blasted fashion designers! Sons of Odin, the whole lot of them! You would think that with the two year war going on they wouldn't have time to think of new, elaborate ways to torture royalty."

She finished unlacing the one boot and pulled it off. Thumping it down on the floor beside her, she started on the other boot. "You would think I could come back to the same comfortable styles I had left. But nooooo!"

As she started tugging the left boot off, the door to the room flew open and Basch rushed in, outfitted in Archadian Magistrate armor -- minus his helmet.

"Is everything all right here? I thought I heard…"

He stopped, his voice trailing off as he finally took in the scene before him. What he saw was Queen Ashelia sprawled on the floor, dress flared out behind her in a disheveled manner. One foot was bare, and she was in the process of tugging off the other, her face twisted with extreme annoyance. Basch glanced up to see that in contrast to Ashe, Lord Larsa was sitting on the table with a look of amusement on his face, comfortable as a kitten on wool skeins.

He turned his attention back to Ashe and raised an eyebrow at her. "Dare I ask what happened here?"

"No," she snapped back. "Not unless you want to hear my latest plans for my tailors."

Larsa coughed into his hand. "Yes, I believe it involved summoning down every Esper known to mankind."

"Oh, shush, Larsa. " Ashe chucked a boot at him. "I was just thinking thirty days with the Garifs."

Larsa laughed, catching the boot easily before it could hit him in the chest.

Basch placed a hand on his hip. "Ashe, shame on you. Striking my charge."

She picked up the other boot from the floor, the corners of her lips turning up in a smile. "What, you want a boot thrown at you too?"

Before he could reply, there was a patter of leather-clad feet. Larsa was not surprised when Vaan appeared beside Basch.

"Hey Larsa, Bash, hey… Umm, Ashe? Why are you on the floor?"

"Why wouldn't I be on the floor?" she demanded with icy dignity, even as her face grew faintly red.

"Well," Vaan leaned against the doorframe. "Usually you don't hold your consul sessions on the floor unless you're having a tea party."

"Vaan…" Basch warned.

Or tried to, anyway. Vaan was on a roll and didn't want to stop.

"Besides, why are you wearing that silly dress? It makes you look like a Sleipnir, spiked mane and all, with all that fancy stuff on the back."

"What are you calling me?" Ashe demanded, slapping a hand on the floor in anger.

"You know, Sleipnirs are known for the short tempers too… are you sure you're not related?"

"That's it!"

Ashe lunged to her feet and Vaan squeaked in alarm at the dangerous look in her eyes. He hadn't meant to push her that far!

"Hey, c'mon, can't the princess take a joke?" he begged before spinning on his heel and disappearing in a flash.

"Get back here!" Ashe snarled. She hiked up the long trails of her dress and held them up with one hand as she tore off after the young man, her boot held like a weapon in the other.

Basch made a move as if to follow them, then shook his head and stayed where he was, watching as the two ash blonde humans raced down the hallway. Larsa hopped off the table and joined him.

Vaan was running quite fast but Ashe wasn't too far behind him, despite her dress. Vaan reached the intersection of the hallway and disappeared around the corner.

Ashe skidded to a halt at the intersection and Basch saw her hand snap out, hurling the boot after Vaan. A moment later there was a loud yelp of pain, demonstrating that Ashe had lost none of her deadly aim.

"Ha! Take that, Vaan!" Ashe crowed in a very unqueenly manner, stabbing a finger out at Vaan. "That's what you get for poking fun at me and my dress!"

"Perhaps it would be wise for us to stop them?" Larsa suggested. "Before they really get going…"

Down the hall Ashe stamped her foot, much like she use to do in her early teen years, shouting down the hallway in reply to something Vaan had said. "Oh really? You want to come say that to my face, pumpkin head?!"

"…Yes, definitely," Basch agreed. "Before Vaan's insults start another war."


End file.
